The Dreamer by Markus Godswill

Still holding his breath, James shouted at the top of his voice, "whiteman na winch oh!".
The sight of the famous Eiffel tower was breathtaking and unimaginable to him. All he could think of was how the white man has succeeded effortlessly in building yet another Tower of Babel.
He looked around him smiling, greeting everyone that looked at him. He would just wave and say 'hello' admiring everything his eyes could see. He seemed not to care.  "O boy, I dey Yankee oh!" "The boy don arrive".
***
The cellphone rang. A very huge man dressed in black answered the call before handling it over to James. "Sir, you have a call from America". James bobbed as if halted by a military officer. He looked close around him with keen interest for the first time, only to realize that he was in the midst of four huge men. Two in front of him and two behind him.
"What am I doing in the midst of these huge men?", he asked himself. He eyed the man giving him the phone,
"what did you say?".
"Sir you have a call from America. It seems madam wants to talk to you".
"Madam?" James eyes widened.
"Hello"
he murmured as he took the phone.
"Sweetheart" the voice from the other end had said. "when are you coming back home? You've been away for a whole week. Do you know how much I, I mean we miss you very much?"
"Yes daddy we miss you" two voices like that of angels shouted before the line went off.
As if he had seen a ghost, James jaws dropped in disbelief.
"'Sweetheart'.  'Daddy' am I married? with kids!!"
He shouted recalling how weird he sounded when he replied back, "I miss you too".
James couldn't comprehend what was happening. He knew better from experience how brutal bouncers and bodyguards back in Nigeria can be not to ask questions. He surveyed the area again and again.
"How did I even get here in the first place?"
"Good day sir" a voice called out. " Good day Mr James". He turned his eyes trying to locate who ever was calling him."
Who be this one again?". His gaze landed on a female, probably in her mid twenties. She was light skinned, dressed in a pink gown that perfectly brought out her figure eight.
"She must be one of those Instagram hotties" James thought. "But how she take sabi my name?". "Let her in" he said.
"Sir, I really do admire your works. I always get the feeling you are speaking to me in person. I'd love to have your autograph on this".
"Which work that one come be na?". He wanted to shout but stopped, amazingly he gazed the text in her hand with his name on it " STRONG WOMAN " JAMES MARK. A four year bestseller.
"Sir can I have your autograph?" The lady repeated herself.
***
"Mum its mine".
"No mum, its mine".
Two kids at the golf coarse fighting over the ball. There their mother stood in vain effort to control them. Timothy threw the ball and it landed on James's head. As if hit with the weight of a giant truck, James fell silently l to the ground, The world around him begun to turn dark with his consciousness deteriorating slowly he could hear faint voice of his mother and brother screaming his name as the world slowly turned dark and he became numb.  He was unconscious.
***
James bobbed up from a strange pain on his forehead. it no longer felt like a dream as he could fell the particle of clay his dad had moulded specifically to be used on him. The sight of the hoe in front of him made it clear. The sight if the green and how many ridges left brought everything to life.
  The hard clay James's father had molded felt like a rock when it landed on James's head. He opened his eyes, as if almost running mad at the sight before him. No Eiffel tower only flies parading around him making their usual irritating sound. James could see the hoe lying just a few inches away from him. The cloths he was wearing was dirty and gives the idea that it has not been washed for months. Who would botherto wash his farm cloths. His body was all dusty and smelled sweaty.
"Stand up make we work. Abi you wan sleep for farm today"?.
"Farm?" James frowned. Tears were now foaming in his eyes.
"But I was just in Paris. No!, That cant be a dream, Or.. is it?".